


Good Mornings

by TellMeNoAgain



Series: So Much Trouble [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dominance, Fix-It, M/M, Not Beta Read, Power Imbalance, Slow Burn, Starker D/s, Submission, Underage Masturbation, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21687478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain
Summary: Read at your own risk. If you're here for the legal-age smut, it's coming. If you don't like smut at all, you- you should really learn how to read tags.Peter's under 18, so there's all these rules they have to follow, so Mr. Stark doesn't get in trouble.  That doesn't mean they can't have fun, though.~~~He wakes up in the morning to the sound of the door sliding open and Mr. Stark, dressed for the day in his workshop clothes- jeans and an Aerosmith tshirt- saunters in.  The door slides shut behind him and Peter’s heart starts racing.“My, my, my,” chuckles Mr. Stark, approaching the bed with his hands rubbing together, “what do we have here?”
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: So Much Trouble [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562707
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read because I have no idea how you even start that relationship. "Hi, I write, uh, I mean, it's just the one, starkerd/s, so do you want to uh, read it?"
> 
> Triggers aplenty here, let me know if I missed one and I can add more tags and warnings.
> 
> NOT ENDGAME COMPLIANT. (Let's be real here, this AU is barely MCU compliant.)
> 
> For completionists, DEAD DOVE warning, this series is going to be EXPLICIT D/s Starker. Once Peter's of age, there will be sex, is what I'm saying. BE WARNED.
> 
> For prudes, these are fictional characters and I've double checked, no one actually has a skeevy real-life relationship as a result of this series, so, like, relax. No one is going to get hurt. They're not real.

He wakes up in the morning to the sound of the door sliding open and Mr. Stark, dressed for the day in his workshop clothes- jeans and an Aerosmith tshirt- saunters in. The door slides shut behind him and Peter’s heart starts racing.   
  
“My, my, my,” chuckles Mr. Stark, approaching the bed with his hands rubbing together, “what do we have here?”   
  
Peter holds very still, caught by the electric, crackling look in Mr. Stark’s eyes, lifted up on one elbow, until Mr. Stark gets to the side of the bed closest to Peter and then he falls back and blinks up at him.    
  
Mr. Stark is smiling, hugely, a teasing grin, as he looks up and down the bed and sniffs the air with a dramatic flourish. “Smells like you did as you were told, Peter Parker, but I want to hear from you.” He crouches by the bedside, leaning in so that their faces are impossibly close. “Did you, perfect Peter? Did you do exactly as you were told?”

Peter’s erection is so painful he’s worried the smallest movement will set it off, so he holds as still as possible as he nods his head.   
  
“I said I wanted to hear,” reminds Mr. Stark, voice teasing. He runs one hand, hovering, over Peter’s chest and down the length of his body to his thigh, rising and dipping with the clear profile of Peter’s morning wood, and then folds the hand under his chin and tilts his head, a smirk twisting his lips.   
  
“Yess,” hisses Peter, quietly, trying not to move an inch. Trying not to think about what is happening, because if he thinks about it, he’s going to break the No Watching rule. He suspects Mr. Stark knows that, from the delighted light in his eyes as Peter shudders and the way that he waits, patiently, for Peter to pull back from the edge before continuing.   
  
“Yes, what?” asks Mr. Stark, mocking and playful.

“Yess, sir,” slurs Peter, and that’s it, he’s done for, this is way too much.   
  
Mr. Stark smiles, his eyes alight as Peter struggles to pull himself together and says, “And did you have something you wanted to ask me?”   
  
It’s overwhelming how much he cannot find the words right now, so he breathes and breathes and Mr. Stark says, “What is this kind of play called, Peter?”   
  
And that is a question Peter can answer, “Edging, sir,” he gasps. “This is definitely fucking edging, I am  _ edged _ .”

Mr. Stark laughs at this response and says, “I can tell, but you are going to be so good for me and remember No Watching, aren’t you?”   
  
And Peter frantically nods, because he sure hopes he will.   
  
“So, you’re new to this, and I’m going to make allowances,” and that condescending, teasing tone makes Peter’s eyes want to roll back into his head,  _ what is wrong with him _ , “and I’m going to repeat myself. Did you have something you wanted to ask me this morning, Peter?”

“Yessir,” hisses Peter, hands clutching the blankets beside his hips for control, dammit.   
  
“Oh, that does put your dick in nice relief, I like that,” comments Mr. Stark, his gaze casually traveling down the bed, and thank  _ fuck _ his hand does not, just, whoa, thank  _ fuck _ . “I can see how much you’re gagging for a good fuck. But you’re not going to get what you need by putting on a show, Peter, because No Watching.”   
  
Peter struggles with  _ consciousness, _ fuck, Mr. Stark is going to kill him right now.   
  
“Peter,” says Mr. Stark, after a minute where the only sound is Peter’s hands scrabbling on the blanket and his breath hissing, and his tone is playfully impatient, “I’m waiting.”   
  
Peter sucks air and says, in a rush, “Please, god, please Mr. Stark, please tell me I can come when you leave, please, God, please, Mr. Stark, sir, please.” He stops begging because the begging is making it hard to keep control and he really, really needs control, and concentrates on not hyperventilating because his breathing is fucked right up.   
  
Mr. Stark puts a finger to his lips and taps it a few times, his eyes alight. “I ought to tell you no, for making me wait-” and Peter groans, imagining that, and bucks up against the sheets because he will absolutely die, he will- “-but you were such a good boy last night.”    
  
His tone and demeanor abruptly changes, brisk, disinterested, dismissive, and he stands as he says, “Yes, Peter. You’re greedy and I don’t know why I spoil you but yes. You will wait, like you made me wait,” and he actually waggles a finger at Peter, cheerful and playful and Peter is  _ actively dying  _ and he can’t stop the quick, twitchy attempts of his hips to get some friction, “but when I am out of that door, Peter, thinking of me, you will take care of what’s mine.”   
  
Peter nods frantically, hoping to all the gods of fuck that Mr. Stark walks just a little bit faster but he doesn’t, he just saunters back out and Peter swears it is like ten minutes, this room is stupidly huge, he’s asking Mr. Stark to move him into the nearest  _ coat closet _ at breakfast, but finally the door hisses open and Mr. Stark slides out and starts fucking whistling before the door closes, and Peter slides a hand down his nude body and at the first confident touch of hand to flesh, he loses his damn mind.

That was the best morning Peter has ever had in his life and he is totally counting every Christmas.


	2. Chapter 2

The kitchen is empty by the time he gets there, after scrubbing himself clean in the shower and donning his own workshop gear- sweats and a tshirt that says “You Matter- unless you multiply yourself by the speed of light, and then you energy.” He eats a huge breakfast, the kind of breakfast a Denny’s commercial would be envious of, and makes his way down to the workshop.   
  
Mr. Stark is already four-deep in schematics and of course Dr. Banner is at the compound but Mr. Stark has put him up on the screen and Peter loves that they do this, loves that when they’re in the lab, even when they’re miles apart, they still just prefer to do their work in the company of each other. Dr. Banner was gone for most of Peter’s rela- friend- pre-internship with Mr. Stark, and having watched them the past few months, he understands the weird pauses in Mr. Stark’s workshop routine where Dr. Banner is now interrupting to say things like, “Basic lab safety, Tony,” and “For fucks sake, wear your  _ designer goggles _ .” There are way less lab accidents and minor burn injuries with Dr. Banner present, and Peter appreciates that.   
  
Peter had left his foray into web fluid that could conduct enough electricity to taze on the workbench here at the Tower. It’s not his favorite experiment and is just, like, a side-project, he could walk away from it in a heartbeat, but it’s nice to have something ready to mess around with whenever they stop by.   
  
After a good two-hour stretch, Mr. Stark huffs and throws an entire section of schematic in the trash can and say, “Fuck, go back to the previous- FRIDAY, the one before I started fucking it up this morning, pull up the- yes, thank you,” and he backs into his workstation and puts his hand out for his coffee. Dum-E isn’t here, anymore, none of the bots travel well between the Tower and the Compound, their AIs have all collectively decided to be scared of the shipping containers, which Mr. Starks swears they are doing just because they are spoiled rotten scrap heaps. So there’s no one to suggest a smoothie but Peter, and so he says, “Mr. Stark, did you, did you eat breakfast, Mr. Stark?

Mr. Stark turns to look at him and a smile twitches his lips, “Cluck cluck, mother hen,” he teases, and Peter flushes a little, and then he says, “I did but- Bruce- donut break?”   
  
Dr. Banner looks up from his test tubes and says, “Go ahead, Tone, I am right in the middle of these cultures, fifteen minutes.”   
  
Mr. Stark nods and says, “FRIDAY, you got that? Donuts to the lab at the compound for Dr. Jekyll?”   
  
“Already enroute, sir,” replies FRIDAY smoothly.

Mr. Stark heads for the door, leaving Peter and Dr. Banner together, kind of, each one engaged in their workbenches.    
  
Dr. Banner says, distractedly, “You’re so good for him, he needs that mother henning sometimes, don’t, don’t take it personally.”   
  
Peter is amused to think that Dr. Banner thinks that he needs reassurance on that front. “Oh, yeah, Dr. Banner, I know Mr. Stark, he’s all, you know, bark and razzle-dazzle.”   
  
“Well,” agrees Dr. Banner, “yeah, there’s substance under it but I appreciate your approach, you’ve got a good success rate.” He straightens a little, making some more marks, and then murmurs, “Here-” and flicks a screen across the state and Friday brings it up in front of Peter- “there’s scientific proof of how nice it is to have you in our lab, Peter.” And it’s a chart and a graph of Mr. Stark’s eating habits, sleeping habits, and other rest breaks, including socialization, split into, “PP- Parker Present and PA- Parker Absent” and the data is  _ damning _ .    
  
“Whoa,” stutters Peter. “That’s- that’s not great, Dr. Banner.”   
  
Dr. Banner flashes him a quick look from under his eyes before returning to his notations and says, “I know. So just, you’re good, it’s good to have you here. Here, send that back before he gets back, he’d be ticked that I tattled but you should know, you are measurably helping him. I get the feeling sometimes you think it’s all one way, and it’s easy to be overwhelmed by all-  _ this- _ ” and he waves around at the Compound’s lab- “but Tony-” he huffs a breath, carefully placing a vial back in a slot- “I think Tony thinks it’s all the other way, too. So just, data.”   
  
Peter flicks the screen back to Dr. Banner and thinks very carefully about why Dr. Banner would be sharing this information with him and thinks about honesty and keeping things from Mr. Stark and then says, “Thanks, Dr. Banner, that, you know, that does help.”   
  
“You’re welcome, Peter,” says Dr. Banner, eyes kind as he marks down something and pulls up a chart, fingers flying through the air rearranging variables.

The donuts are delicious.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to pop into the comments with encouragement, or specific scenes you'd like to see at this stage of the no-touching game. SLOW BURN IS SO SLOW. I won't handle criticism well, unless you and I have a baseline understanding, so I guess keep that to yourself or tell a friend, whichever one you want to do. Thanks for reading!


End file.
